


Bloodlust

by blood_honey



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Human/Vampire Relationship, Kidnapping, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-06 02:17:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19053238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blood_honey/pseuds/blood_honey
Summary: After being abducted by her perverted uncle, Cassie thought she'd never see the sun rise again. At least not until ten years later, when an emotionally detached, man-eating vampire breaks into her home and renders Cassie his new human blood bag.Whoever knew that the poor, fragile girl would stir something within him, causing him to feel his first emotion for the first time in almost a  century.





	1. Adrenaline Rush

He decided a long time ago that he would never stop killing.

The sensation was addictive, the adrenaline that runs through your veins after you take another's life was simply a high one could not come down from.

Even if he wanted to, he couldn't stop. He needed to.

He needed the blood.

The man peered through the window of the small cottage that he found in the middle of nowhere. His dark eyes narrowed as he watched a middle-aged man finish preparing a delicious looking meal, then open a cupboard and pull out a tin of open dog food.

He made sure to stay hidden as he looked around the room for a dog, there wasn't one. The man he was watching proceeded to slop a spoonful of dog food in between two slices of bread and put it on a plate.

The man disappeared down the stairs and into the basement. He took this as the perfect opportunity to slip in through the open window. He stealthily slid between the glass and landed quietly on the floor as if he'd done it 1000 times.

The living room was full of clutter and everything seemed to have a thin layer of grease coating it. His eyes fixed themselves on the framed picture that hung over the fireplace. It was a painting of a blonde girl smiling wide.

He took his place behind the door and waited for the old man to return from the basement. His calloused fingers gripped his knife and held it up to his chest.

Heavy footsteps could be heard from the other side of the oak door. He got into position.

The door flung open, and out he came. The knife was forcefully plunged into his back before he could even turn around. The man cried out and fell to the floor.

He straddled the man's back and pulled his hair back, then covered his mouth with his dirty hand.

He resisted the man's writhing and biting as he leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Don't fight it."

With the other hand, he brought the knife gently across the man's neck, making a long cut. The man but down on his attacker's hand even harder, but he didn't let go.

He forces the old man's head to the side and leaned down, bringing his chapped lips to his bleeding neck. He began to suck, swallowing gulp after gulp. His victim began to slow down his movements, which was a given considering how much blood he'd lost.

Once the man fell unconscious, he pulled himself to his feet and wiped his mouth with his leather sleeve.

This is where he would've finished the man off and left, after removing every single piece of evidence that could prove he was ever there in the first place - not that anyone would know he was dead, there were no houses for miles in every direction.

But, something had been nagging at him ever since the man pulled out that can of dog food. His eyes flickered towards the open door that undoubtedly lead to the basement.

He'd come back for his organs afterwards.

He left his unconscious victim and began to slowly walk down the steps into the darkness. When he got to the bottom, his hands explored the walls, looking for a switch.

Before he found it, he heard something. He heard a whimper, but not like a dog's.

He rushed to find the switch, which he did. The room lit up, but he wished it hadn't. His dark eyes landed on a young girl with her hands bound above her head and her ankles strapped to the wall behind her. It was the girl from the painting, only she was bruised, beaten and about 30 pounds lighter. She only wore a pair of dirty underwear, that looked like they hadn't been washed in years.

The girl blinked, adjusting to the new lighting. Her tired eyes flickered towards him, then with pleading eyes, she looked to his left. He grabbed the bottle of water, contemplating giving it to her.

He could just leave now, this wasn't his problem to solve. That's what he would've done if she didn't look so weak and helpless. When a single tear fell from her dull eyes, he walked over to her hanging body. The girl looked terrified at first and flinched when he attempted to place two fingers under her chin.

When she realised, the girl let him tilt her head back as he tipped the water into her dry mouth. The man retracted the bottle from her lips after only a sip, in which the girl stuck her head out as far as she could in an attempt to get more. He dropped the water bottle and kicked it into the corner of the room, but she was too weak to protest as she let her head drop down as she was too weak to hold it up.

He grabbed her chin again, this time with force, and lifted her head up to meet his eyes. He inspected her face. She had sickly pale, almost translucent skin. Underneath her sunken eyes were the darkest circles he'd ever seen on a person. Her face also had many bruises and cuts, and he could only guess who'd given them to her.

He scoffed, dropping her head, only to pick it up again with even more force. He looked into her eyes, which were filled with terror.

"What's your name?" He growled, it sent shivers down her spine.

"W.. water..plea.." The blonde croaked, but her pleas were shut down immediately as the man squeezed her cheeks even harder with one hand.

"I asked what your name was, Girl! Answer me." He said with nothing but pure anger in his tone. He didn't have time for this, he should've just left when he had the chance.

"Ca..ssie." He let go of her chin, satisfied with her answer.

Leaving her to hang, he began to walk around the cellar. It was cold and dark, with no windows or decoration. There was a small table to the left of her, which he stalked over too.

His nose twitched at the smell, it was a mouldy cake with the number candles '18' messily jabbed into it. There was a card as well, the man picked it up and looked inside.

'My dearest Cassidy,

It's been such an honour to raise you and watch you grow up from a disgusting little child you were to the beautiful woman you are today.

Happy 18th, Angelface.

Yours truly, Uncle Ross.'

He set the card down and walked away to the other side of the cellar, in which an old easel was placed directly in front of Cassie. He inspected the half-finished painting. It was of her, in her current position all bloodied as bruised as she was. The only difference was that she had a huge gaping hole where her heart should be. He ran his fingertips over the canvas; it was still wet.

It was quite an unsettling change to the picture he'd seen upstairs.

He circled back around to her dangling body. "What does he do to you?" He asked with a more calm tone.

She merely shook her head no and nodded in the direction of the water bottle. This angered him.

"Fine. But you better start talking, Bitch. I don't have all day," He grumbled, fetching the water bottle and aggressively shoving her head back. She gulped it down in a matter of seconds.

"Did you kill him?" Was the first thing she said once she'd been hydrated.

She watched as his eyes turned into slits. "Yes." Lies. He didn't know quite exactly why he lied, maybe to make her sad, or to save her from sadness.

"Oh." Her facial expression didn't change, it wasn't sad nor happy.

They shared brief eye contact before he reached up and grazed his fingers across her scarred wrists. He gripped onto the rope, preparing to pull, but he slowly retracted his hands when the sound of a gun cocking echoed off the cold walls.

"Get your fucking hands off her, you blood-sucking lunatic!" He sighed, realizing that he must've plunged the knife deep enough. If he had, 'Uncle Ross' wouldn't be alive and standing right behind him.

"That's funny, coming from a guy that has a beaten girl chained to a wall." He slowly turned around to face Ross.

"Who are you?" Ross asked with his eyes narrow. Cassie would've liked to know the same thing, but she was too weak and zoned out to listen to what was happening. She didn't care who lived and who died, she was too tired.

"I'm Marilyn, nice to meet you." He said monotone voice before slicing Cassie's wrist restraints and letting her ungracefully fall into his arms. It's then when he noticed she'd fallen unconscious.

"No!" Ross began blindly firing bullets. Marilyn could tell he was nowhere near a professional as he'd missed every shot. He kicked at her ankle restraints until they broke, allowing her to fall limply into his arms.

Marilyn held the frail girl upright and in front of him, causing Ross to stop shooting and stare in horror as he allowed her head to loll to the right and hovered his painted lips over her neck.

"Let her go, you sick bastard!" Ross growled, bringing his sleeve over his prominently sweaty forehead.

"I don't think you should be using that tone with me, Uncle Ross." He placed a soft kiss on Cassie's shoulder, smearing his lipstick over her skin. Marilyn could feel her unconscious form shiver against him.

Ross' brows furrowed as he let out a defeated sigh and dropped the gun. "Good. Now kick it to me."

Upon his obvious hesitance, Marilyn placed a soft kiss on Cassie's jaw - he almost smiled when Ross did what he said, Marilyn loved being in control.

"If you want the girl, turn around and slowly walk up the stairs."

"You don't have to do this." Ross reasoned. He himself knew he didn't and was still unsure of why he was.

"Do what I say, or I'll drain every drop of the girl's blood and harvest every single one of her organs. And I won't kill her first."

Ross looked horrified, which was rather amusing to Marilyn as he'd been doing who knows what to the blonde in his arms for a long time by the looks of things.

He turned away from Marilyn and planted his foot on the first step. But before he could even reach the second, he was on the ground in a puddle of his own blood.

Marilyn said nothing as he roughly laid Cassie on the ground and walked over to Ross, who had a bullet in the back of his head. Marilyn knelt down beside him and opened the duffel bag that'd been over his shoulder the entire time.

He didn't feel a thing as he sliced Ross' neck open and let the blood fill up seven big bottles. He didn't feel a thing as he made precise and professional incisions into Ross' torso and harvested his organs one by one. He sighed, he'd have to get this to a freezer soon.

Cassie awoke to the sounds of squelching. Her back hurt and her eyelids were too heavy to open. She tried to lift her arm up but to her dismay, couldn't.

When she finally managed to open her eyes, she saw Marilyn's back turned away from her, and he was hunched over someone, Ross. Her eyes widened as his gloved hand shoved what looked to be a kidney into a zip lock bag. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out.

She slowly felt herself getting lighter and lighter until she passed out again.


	2. Glass Half Full

He'd decided to take the girl. Not for anything other than the fact that he'd been running out of blood in the recent months. Since winter began, the decrease in hikers and dog walkers was huge.

It was strange, to keep Cassie as a human blood bag, his human blood bag, but he needed blood to survive. If he kept living the way he was, he'd die before the winter was over.

The thin twigs snapped under his steel toe boots, causing the local woodland creatures to scurry away in fear. The damp air invaded his nostrils from through the trees.

Although Ross had been enough to sustain his energy, he could feel himself growing weaker by the minute, and the smell of fresh organs bleeding through the bag over his shoulder wasn't helping.

The leaves of the tall trees hung over in a canopy-like manner, protecting Marilyn and the girl draped over his shoulder from the heavy rain.

Marilyn wasn't surprised at how little she weighed, she looked like she hadn't been fed in days.

A stone cobble house appeared in the distance, as if it was intentionally greeting Marilyn and it's new guest. He stormed into the house, thrusting the girl onto his freshly made bed. Despite his extra curricular activities that he liked to do in his spare time, living in an untidy environment was unbearable for him.

Even though Cassie wasn't going to be alive for much longer, Marilyn couldn't leave her unclothed like she was.

His fingers twitched as he pulled the soft material of one of his shirts over Cassie's bruised head. She remained unconscious as he slid some of his pants over her legs.

He left the room, taking the bag of freshly harvested organs with him.

Cassie awoke surrounded by a variety of different bed sheets - she never had any bed sheets, let alone a soft mattress to sleep on. Her eyes snapped open, widening when she realised she wasn't at home.

It took her a while to remember what happened, but when she did her stomach began to turn again. "Ross..?" She croaked, but nobody came, unsurprisingly.

Cassie contemplated what she should do before slowly peeling the soft sheets from her body, her weak arms almost dropping down as she did so.

Her brows furrowed as she stared at the comfy material that was draped over her body, Cassie wasn't complaining though, she hadn't wore a proper clothes in so long.

She hadn't walked in so long, either. She attempted to stand up, but she just fell straight onto the stone floor. As she did so, the glass vase on the table beside the bed clattered onto the ground and smashed into multiple shards.

Minutes later, the rusted door slammed open, revealing the man from before. She tried to get up again, but ended up on the ground once more.

Marilyn waited with an angry expression, but she didn't say anything - she was absolutely petrified, so all Cassie could do was look up at him from her position on the ground.

He wrapped his firm hand around her thin wrists, then pulled her frail body up from the ground. She wobbled on her feet, but stopped abruptly as he moved his hands to her upper arms.

"You broke my fucking vase." He growled. Cassie shrunk back as she felt his hot breath fan across her face.

"I... I-" She stuttered. Cassie hoped and prayed he wouldn't kill her - especially since she'd seen the damage this man could do.

He stared at her, before dropping her to the ground again. He stormed out; Cassie sighed in relief. But to her dismay, he returned with a broom and a dustpan clutched in his pale hands.

Marilyn tossed the cleaning equipment down my her feet. "Clean it up." Was all he said before turning around and storming out. The loud sound of the door colliding with the stone made Cassie jump.

She did what Marilyn told her to in hopes he'd give her a bit of food in return. She was almost done when she felt a piece of glass pierce her thigh.

She winced, plucking the shard from her flesh. Her eyes widened as she felt warmth trickle down her leg, it was blood. Cassie was lucky she was familiar with the liquid.

Trying her hardest not to get any blood on Marilyn's floor, Cassie finished sweeping up the glass the best she could.

Once she'd finished, Marilyn came back into the room. "You're bleeding." His jaw locked at the sight before him.

"I'm sorry." She muttered, pushing forward the tray of glass and the broom. Marilyn nodded, seeming pleased.

"Good girl," He praised, before leaving once again, and returning with a large glass of water and a plate of various berries. Cassie's mouth watered at the sight.

He set the food down and knelt down, picking Cassie up and putting her on the bed.

Cassie watched Marilyn walk over and grab an old, rusted wooden box that was rotting away in each corner.

He flipped open the box and searched for something. Cassie realised it was a first aid box.

Marilyn reached over and passed her the glass of water. "Drink," He commanded, and she did. The cool liquid was like heaven for Cassie's throat as she gulped it down as fast as she could.

When she finished, Cassie was about to set the glass back on the table, but instead she was surprised when the glass was pried from her fingers and placed right where the blood was dripping from her leg.

Eyes wide, she tried to remove her leg from Marilyn's grasp, but he held it in place. It was useless, the only thing she could do was watch as the glass got fuller and fuller.

When the glass was full, Cassie cringed when Marilyn brought the red liquid up to his painted lips. She couldn't help but divert her attention to the wall behind him as he downed the blood that once ran through her veins.

Marilyn wiped his deep red lips and set the empty glass down. He then gingerly passed the plate of berries over to her to eat whilst he cleaned her wound.

Cassie wasted no time in digging in to the colourful fruits. She hardly felt the fingertips grazing over her thigh as Marilyn wrapped her wound in gauze.

When they were both finished, Marilyn didn't leave. He just knelt with a stone cold expression, staring up at Cassie.

She'd finally grown confident enough to ask the question that had been playing on her mind ever since she woke up, "Why am I here?"

There was a long pause, making Cassie almost regret speaking up, but just as she was going to apologise, he started talking.

"I need blood," He grumbled. Cassie was expecting more, but that's all she got.

Marilyn hesitated, but got up and left anyway.

Cassie didn't know what to do now. She contemplated following him, but she didn't want to be scolded again.

Cassie fell back on the bed, various thoughts running through her mind. She was too tired to stay awake. Eventually she felt herself drift off into a deep sleep.


End file.
